


Scars

by BreathItIn



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, More tags will be added as the story goes, Somewhat follows the TV show, With some stuff from the games, and it is not beta'd, maybe smut?, so please be gentle, this is my first story
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23710588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BreathItIn/pseuds/BreathItIn
Summary: It had been over 10 years since you had last laid eyes on the Witcher known as Geralt of Rivia, and if you had it your way, you never would again. Too bad you never seem to get your way.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Reader
Kudos: 35





	1. A Good Day

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction because I’m pretty sure what I did in Middle School wouldn’t be classified as ‘writing’. So, if you guys could bear with me, it would be greatly appreciated. That being said, on to the story!

You had been having such a good day.

You had slept well the night before, waking up feeling refreshed. You had sold all of your wares on the market, and had earned enough money to buy supplies for the next couple of weeks, as well as a treat for yourself; a bar of your favorite orange scented soap. Upon returning to your home at the edge of the forest, you had set to organizing your supplies and preparing your evening meal before having a relaxing bath and heading to bed.

Your life was simple. You hunted in the forest, killing animals and monsters alike. You would then use what you could and sell what you couldn’t or didn’t need. Living alone, you didn’t need much and rarely splurged coin on luxurious items. Having fended for yourself for the last decade, you learned what you truly needed and what you could live without.

The last rays of light were just leaving the sky when you sat down on the stool in front of the fire to eat your dinner; a simple stew with a hunk of bread. When you first came to the village, your cooking, while passable, still left much to be desired. You had been extremely thankful to the woman who had not only taken you in for your first year in town, but had taught you the basics of keeping a home. Things like cooking, mending clothes, and even how to perform some minor repairs around the house. Growing up as the daughter of a well-off merchant had meant such things were deemed unnecessary for you to learn due to you always having maids and other servants to perform tasks for you. If only you had known where life would take you.

Your mind drifted back to the man who had caused your life to change so drastically all those years ago.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

14 years earlier

His white hair and amber eyes would have made him stand out, even if he hadn’t been half a head taller than almost every other man in town. He had been summoned by the mayor to help rid the village of the beast that had been terrorizing the people of this town for nearly half a year. Every full moon, people would hide in their homes, lock their doors, and seal their windows in hopes of avoiding the wolf-man that would inevitably appear, leaving bloodshed in its wake.

Twelve people had been killed by the beast so far. The mayor, a portly, middle-aged man named Gaius Garber, had ignored the deaths for as long as he could, dismissing them as drunks who had wandered into the forest and gotten lost or as hunters killed by bears. Finally, when the son of one of the most well-off families in town had been found with his throat slashed and his bowels splayed out in front of him, Garber had no choice but to call for help from the only person who would be able to kill the beast; a Witcher.

Of course, this was not just any Witcher who arrived. This was Geralt of Rivia, the Butcher of Blaviken, the White Wolf, the most feared Witcher in existence. You doubted there was a person alive on the continent that hadn’t heard the song retelling his battle against the elf-king. A song, whose writer appeared to still be traveling with the man. The lute and lively attitude made it easy to recognize the bard, Jaskier, who worked hard to spread the tales of his imposing companion.

“Quite the brute, isn’t he?”

You turned to see the hazel eyes of Matias Baxter, son of the mayor’s sister, cunt extraordinaire, and your betrothed.

“Yes, I suppose he does look rather intimidating. Though I’m sure killing monsters for a living tends to do that to a person,” you responded, fighting the urge to roll your eyes at him. You turned back to try and catch another glimpse of the mysterious monster hunter before he disappeared into the mayor’s house, but find that you are too late. The only thing you saw was the back of the bard’s head just before the door shut.

You sighed, moving to return home, only to be stopped by Matias’ hand on your shoulder. “Wait a moment,” he pulled you back to him, “I figured we could take a stroll together. I assumed you would want to spend as much time together as we could before our wedding.” He had that stupid, smug look on his face, the one he always had when he knew he was going to get his way. It was hard to deny Matias anything, as he had never been told ‘no’ a day in his life by either his parents or his uncle.

You put on your best smile and told him “Of course, I’d love to spend more time with you Matias, but as it’s already the evening, and tonight is the full moon, I know that my parents will want me home early. Perhaps tomorrow, my dearest heart?” You silently begged whatever higher power there was in the world that he would believe you, sparing you the torture of listening to him brag about his various ‘accomplishments’ and how lucky you were to have been chosen by him out of all the girls in town.

“Right, the full moon,” he gave you a tight-lipped smile. “I nearly forgot. Of course, my darling. You should head home. Perhaps tomorrow then?” He released your shoulder only to grab your hand in a firm grip and placed a kiss on your knuckles. “Who knows, maybe by this time tomorrow, the Butcher will have already disposed of the creature and we will finally be able to set a date for our wedding?”

You batted your eyelashes at him, “Nothing would please me more, my love.” This seemed to appease him, for his smile loosened, as did his grip. “I will count the moments until we see each other again,” you pulled away from him and blew him a kiss before you turned and hurried toward your family’s home.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sighed and stood up to return the rest of your stew to the pot, having lost your appetite reminiscing about your old life.

You had just reached the counter of your small kitchen when, out of the corner of your eye, you caught movement between the trees through your little kitchen window. The sun had fully set by now, meaning most people would stay far away from the forest due to its reputation of being ‘haunted’. Only a few brave souls, such as yourself, who had experience hunting monsters would dare venture into the woods during the night. This had made it an ideal spot for you to live, as you preferred to be alone. However, it also meant that when someone was sneaking around the forests’ edge at night, they usually meant trouble. Squinting, you moved closer to the window to try and make out what was out there when a frantic knock sounded at your door.

Bracing yourself for danger, you grabbed one of your daggers from the table you had set it on, and approached the door.

You held the dagger behind your back as you reached for the handle, calling out “Who’s there?”

“Please!” a young voice called back. “My father and I are looking for shelter for the night. This is the first house we’ve come upon in days. All we want is a roof over our heads for the night before continuing on our journey tomorrow.”

Still suspicious, you slowly opened the door.

On the doorstep stood a young girl, maybe 14, with long ash-blonde hair and large green eyes that pleaded with you to help her. Her clothes were soiled and torn in places and she obviously hadn’t had a proper bath in quite some time. The only bag she carried with her was a tattered satchel that looked to be one harsh tug away from completely falling apart.

You quickly glanced around, not sensing any danger from the girl, but stayed on your guard. You looked back to her with a furrowed brow and asked “Where is your father, girl?”

As she opened her mouth to speak, a harsh voice called out from the forest’s edge “Ciri!”

Both of your heads whipped around to the source of the call, as the hulking form of Geralt of Rivia emerged from the woods.

The moment your eyes met for the first time in nearly ten years, you both let out an exasperated “Fuck”.

So much for your good day.


	2. One Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Seeing Geralt after 10 years brings up pain and questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I have to start out by apologizing. I planned to have this up like a week ago but me, being the clumsy thing I am, spilled water on my laptop and fried the motherboard. So I had to send it off to see if anything could be done to save it and, surprise surprise, there wasn’t. They were able to save some of my data but no everything. I then had to buy a new laptop and see what they were able to recover. Of coarse this chapter wasn’t one of the things saved. So, I had to type this up, from memory, partially on my phone because I, as a nurse am still working. Therefore this has not been beta’ed but I wanted to get it out as soon as possible so please forgive any mistakes. If you notice any errors, let me know so that I can fix them. Also, if anyone thinks of a better title, let me know cause I’m not sure about “Scars” anymore.

Your first instinct upon seeing Geralt of Rivia after so many years was to slam the door in his face.

So that’s what you did.

After shutting the door, you quickly locked it before turning and pressing your back against the cool wood. You had never been one to really believe in fate or destiny, but this turn of events could make you reconsider. It would make sense that someone, somewhere was laughing at you and the twisted path they had planned for you to take in life.

Taking some deep breaths, you attempted to slow your heart rate. You slid your dagger into the holder on your belt as you began to listen to what was being said on the other side of your front door.

“Geralt,” the young girl, Ciri apparently, called to the Witcher, “what’s wrong?”

You heard Geralt‘s footsteps approach the cabin and stop short of the steps. “Come along Ciri, we need to keep moving,” came his gruff reply.

“But Geralt,” Ciri protested, “what’s going on?” Ciri’s voice was still close indicating she hadn’t moved from her spot on your steps. “Do you know her?”

You held your breath as you waited to hear his answer.

Geralt paused for a moment before responding with a sigh, “she’s no one Ciri. Now, let’s move along. We still have a long journey ahead of us.”

You know you should have just let them go. It would have been easy, to stay where you were, to let them continue on, into the night, never to be seen by you again. But for some reason, hearing Geralt say that you were no one, to completely deny the four years you spent traveling with him, hurt. It felt like he had reached into your chest and squeezed your heart. You felt tears start to sting your eyes before your anguish turned into anger

Spinning around and unlocking the door, you threw it open with a BANG and flew down the steps until you were face to face with the stunned Witcher in your yard.

“No one!” You exclaimed, pushing the startled man in the chest, knowing full well that you wouldn’t be able to make him move an inch. “‘No one’ he says! As if all the time I spent by your side meant nothing!” With every word that passed your lips, your fury increased and your voice grew louder. “As if the journeys we took was merely a-a-a passing fancy to you! Something to simply pass the time!” You continued to push against him periodically as you yelled.

You could feel your face heat up as the feelings you had kept bottled up for years finally came pouring out of you in the form of rage.

“I knew you were a cold bastard, but this is low, even for you! Maybe everyone is right when they say ‘Witcher’s don’t feel’!”

You stood in front of Geralt, breathless after your tirade. As you panted and waited for his response, you looked into his eyes, searching for any type of reaction, any spark of emotion in the pools of amber.

After he remained silent for a few moments, you grew impatient. “Well?” You asked, pushing against his chest once more, hoping to prompt a reply from the stoic man.

“You were the one who left,” were the words that finally left his mouth.

If his goal had been to increase your anger, he knew exactly what to say to do it.

“You could have come after me!” You threw up your arms, “or are you going to say that one girl was able to outsmart The White Wolf?!”

His reply was much quicker this time. “Usually when someone leaves, it’s because they’re unhappy. So why would I go after someone who clearly didn’t want to be in my presence any longer?”

Your shoulders drooped as you let out an exasperated breath, “you know, for having been around as long as you have, you really know nothing about women.”

“She’s right Geralt,” Ciri said, reminding the two of you that she was still there. ”You do seem rather dense sometimes.”

“Thank you!” You said, turning back to look at Geralt.

“Hmm,” was his only response, clearly not happy that Ciri had agreed with you.

“So, you used to travel with Geralt too?” Ciri asked, approaching you. The girl seemed unfazed by the tension that lingered between you and the Witcher.

“Yes,” you sighed, facing Ciri, “a long time ago.” With your attention taken briefly from the man in front of you, you could feel how emotionally exhausted your outburst had made you. Focusing on your breathing again, you turned the subject away from yourself.

“Speaking of which,” you head turned back to Geralt, “what are you doing with a child?” You asked, confused and curious as to how the unlikely pair had come to be.

“Hey!” Ciri exclaimed, clearly offended by the term, “I’m not a child!”

“Oh, my apologies,” came your sarcastic reply. “Just how old are you?” You asked, one eyebrow arched.

“I’ll have you know that I will be thirteen soon,” Ciri said with a clear sense of pride in her voice.

You rolled your eyes at her tone, “Oh gods, your even younger than I thought.” Shaking your head, you said “that still doesn’t answer my question as to how you two,” you motioned between them “ended up together.”

Geralt answered you this time, “Child Surprise.”

Your eyebrows shot up. You had been with Geralt and Jaskier on that fateful night when he had foolishly claimed the Law of Surprise. “Child Surprise,” you repeated in disbelief. You looked back at the filthy girl, reassessing her. “You mean to tell me,” you started, “that this scrawny little thing” you pointed to her, “in desperate need of a bath, is Princess Cirilla, Lion Cub of Cintra, granddaughter of Queen Calanthe?”

Geralt nodded, confirming what you already knew.

“Well fuck me,” you breathed.

After a moment of silence between the three of you, Ciri piped up “So… does that mean we can stay?”

The girl’s inability to read the situation astounded you. That, or she just ignored it. Possibly a side effect of being alone with Geralt for too long.

Letting out a defeated sigh, your head fell back and your shoulders dropped. You were too tired for this shit. “Fine,” you groan out before rubbing a hand over your face as you tried to compose yourself, “You can stay. But just for the night,” you clarified.

Ciri cheered, no doubt excited at the prospect of sleeping inside for the night and possibly even having a bath. You moved back toward your home, not bothering to look behind and see if they were following. Ciri began talking animatedly about where she and Geralt were headed and just how long they had been traveling. You were only half paying attention to her as you went up the steps and through the front door, Ciri close behind.

‘Stupid, stupid, stupid’ you repeated in your head, berating yourself for giving into the girl. You supposed a part of you felt bad for her. She almost reminded you of yourself when you first started traveling with Geralt. You recalled trying to sleep on the cold ground, unable to find a comfortable position. You remembered walking for days, sometimes with no plan, just hoping to find work.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you noticed Ciri had gone quiet, having discovered the pot of stew you had made.

“Are you hungry?” You asked her, already moving to grab a clean bowl and spoon. Ciri looked at you, her eyes wide, and nodded. You ladled up a generous serving of the warm food and grabbed some bread before placing them on the small table you had by the kitchen. Ciri eagerly sat down and began shoveling the food into her mouth. Shaking your head with a small smile, you moved to fill a cup with water before setting it in front of her. “Slow down or you’ll choke,” you joked.

Looking up, you expected to find Geralt taking up the majority of you small living room. However, he was nowhere to be seen. With your brow furrowed, you moved back to the front door and peaked outside to see if he was still standing in your yard. It wouldn’t have been too surprising, given the man’s stubborn nature.

As you were looking around for the white-haired man, you heard a horse neigh and watched as Geralt walked through the trees, leading a beautiful chestnut horse with white going from their forehead to their nose. The horse was saddled and had what appeared to be most of Geralt’s equipment loaded on their back.

When Geralt was closer, you called out, “this the newest ‘Roach’ then?” You had never understood why he insisted on naming each new horse Roach. As expected, you only received a grunt in response.

Rolling your eyes at him, you turned back into you house before calling over your shoulder “there’s a small stable out back. You can settle her in there.” You assumed the horse to be a mare as Geralt tended to favor them over stallions.

Heading back into your house, you looked at Ciri in surprise when you saw that she was already almost finished with her food. Arching a brow, you asked with a small laugh “would you like some more? There should be enough left for a couple more serves.” She eagerly nodded her head, her mouth so full her cheeks bulged out.

As you ladled up more stew, you asked, “has Geralt not been feeding you? You act like you haven’t eaten in days.”

“I feed her just fine” came Geralt’s rough voice from the doorway. “She just always complains about the taste.”

With out looking up, you replied “well, assuming your cooking, like your people skills, hasn’t improved over the years, I don’t blame her.” Setting the refilled bowl in front of Ciri, you finally turned your attention to Geralt.

As you had assumed, Geralt seemed out of place in your home. He made it seem tiny as opposed to just small. He looked around, assessing his surroundings as always. His eyes stopped on the one bed across from the fireplace.

“The bed is big enough for two,” you teased, answering his unasked question. He quirked an eyebrow before you continued, “and I’m sure Ciri will enjoy getting to sleep in a bed for the first time in who knows how long.”

Geralt opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off before he could get a word out. “I have some extra blankets. I’m sure you’ll be able to make yourself comfortable by the fire,” you motioned to the rug in front of the fire with your head. Geralt knew better than to argue with you, so he simply grunted and set his and Ciri’s things down by the door.

Sighing, you stretched your arms above your head before letting them fall back down to your sides. You reached up to your hair and pulled out the band keeping it in a bun at the base of your head. As you ran your fingers through your hair to try and work out the tangles, you heard Geralt say in a quiet voice “you cut your hair.”

Your hand stilled. You had always loved your hair. It had always been kept long, as was expected to allow for more intricate styles. Though, whenever you could, you would let it run loose and wild, flowing in the breeze. Your mother would always scold you afterwards, saying it was unbecoming of a girl of your station to look like a peasant with tangled hair. After you had joined Geralt, there was rarely a day that went by when your hair wasn’t a tangled mess and you loved every moment of it. Even when you would moan and groan when night came and you would have to try and brush out the tangles, Jaskier teasing you that if you pulled any harder, you would go bald. You would swear that you would never let it loose again, pulling it into a simple braid for a day or two at most, before you gave in and left it free once more.

You had cut it short not long after you and Geralt had parted ways. Now it fell just past your shoulders, the longest it had been in years.

Dropping your hand from your hair, you replied “it’s been ten years Geralt, people change.”

The silence that filled the room after you spoke was deafening. And once again, it was broken by Ciri.

“What happened between you two?”

**Author's Note:**

> There it is! The first chapter in my first story! I hope at least some people will enjoy it and I plan to have the second chapter out in a couple days. Let me know if you see any grammar problems or anything else that needs to be fixed.


End file.
